Some Recent Culinary Adventures--Carob Brownies, Gingerbread Two Ways

I promised a food post for today, and here it is! It's been well over a month since my last "Food as Pleasure" post, in the series of challenges where I set myself to make a 'goodie' without 'healthifying' it except inasfar as to remove allergens so that it's not poison to me.

With Amaranth goodies and Banana Bread, we were going nicely in alphabetical order.

And so, did I stop at "C," because "C" surely has to involve chocolate and I have come to the conclusion that I really do need to steer clear of chocolate except for very rare occasions?

Well, I guess something along those lines did happen. I've been kind of indisposed, too, which has made 'food as pleasure' a tougher concept to grasp. That said, here are a few things I've tried recently--the first two I would describe as only moderately successful; the third is a make-again.

Carob Brownies
As much as I hate the conflation of carob with chocolate, because it does such a disservice to carob (which is an entirely different and distinctly delicious (also super-nutritious) kind of food), I have been finding myself drawn to the idea of playing with carob more as a way to fill the chocolate gap. Not that I was eating any chocolate anyway--but I've done precious little playing with carob yet either, so maybe talking about it here will inspire me.

The recipe for these carob brownies came from this website.

 The only changes I made were to use gluten free flour and xanthan gum, and to omit the walnuts (I hate nuts in baking) and the coffee substitute (which I didn't have or care for).  Oh, and I used coconut syrup instead of rice syrup because it's what I had.

I was a little suspicious of the recipe just from looking at it: it struck me as potentially heavy and dry. And then I was out working in the garden, so it went for the full 30 minutes without my checking it a little earlier.

Yes, it was dry and dense--not much of a crumb to it, not very tasty generally. Not a success.

Gingerbread
Perhaps it was the quest for 'dense and moist' coupled with a dark color; perhaps it was my love of spice, but my next experiment was with gingerbread. I've actually made gingerbread using carob in the flour mix once--maybe I should try that again.

I used this recipe from Vegetarian Times and followed it precisely except that I made it gluten free. I used fresh-ground amaranth flour and tapioca starch with xanthan gum.

I loved the idea of lemon zest as a seasoning in this, but was suspicious with this recipe too: a whole cup of molasses seemed like an awful lot for two and a half cups of flour!

And as you can see, it was super-moist: the sort of gingerbread that leaves a sticky residue on your fingers (and everything else with which it comes into contact)! Which is a good thing, in some ways. It did taste great, but the molasses was a little overpowering (and I love molasses). It also didn't feel that great inside me--sugar shock, maybe?

I'd like to try this again with less molasses and perhaps some applesauce to displace it and some of the shortening.

Raw Gingerbread
Staying on the ginger theme, I had a desire to make raw ginger snaps in the dehydrator but ended up caught by the recipe for Gingerbread in Matthew Kenney's Everyday Raw Desserts.  Lisa generously shared this recipe on her blog about a year ago, if you don't have the book. I went with her suggestion of doubling the amount of grated ginger.

I was intrigued to see how a gingerbread would be with no molasses and using fresh-grated ginger instead of powdered dried ginger.

I used goji berries instead of raisins just because, and teff flour instead of almond flour because I didn't have any.

 Our work-in-progress kitchen...

 Pretty with the lemon glaze (which I almost didn't make but am glad I did)...

 I thought they looked lovely when they had dehydrated a few hours.

They were a little dense and dry, almost more like biscotti than bread. This was my first experiment making 'raw cake' in this style, and I probably have some things to learn in order to perfect the texture.

Verdict? I shared these with some friends and, to judge by their muted reactions (and in one case, frequent reapplications of whipped cream), they were distinctly underwhelmed. But 'my crowd' up here is about the most resistant to this kind of food of any that I've seen anywhere (and we had just had a big meal). On the other hand, I really liked them! They are dense without being overpowering, and the spiciness is great for me (maybe too much for some). They are really not very sweet, either.

I would like to try them again, with a little more moisture and maybe some molasses in there, and a shorter dehydration time (these had about six hours).

One of the fun parts of 'unbaking' is that you end up with leftover ingredients--like date paste

 and lemon glaze.

 What should I do with all that? Make some more gingerbread for starters, I guess!

Do you hate carob because of its unfortunate association with chocolate?

What Fall Brings and Documentary Film Festival

Happy Sunday, Happy October! See the snow coming farther and farther down the mountains?

 Yes, Fall, for sure. Perhaps it's the chillier mornings and colder ambient temperature, but when I poured the hot water into my tea jar yesterday morning, it cracked! Amazingly, I managed to get it over the sink before the bottom fell right out--hot water and glass contained successfully.

It didn't feel like a success at the time, though--I was already running frantic, frustrated by a late start to the morning after getting home late Friday night. Oh, and it looks awful in the sink, but really, it's just powdered rhodiola root (supports adrenals) and a bunch of liver-supporting herbs.

Definitely an occasion for my 'security duster!'

Being fall means that the layers are creeping on: I'm already wearing an extra layer on top and am postponing the additional encumbrance of long-johns as late as I can, but truth be told, I'm going to need them soon. And for the next nine months...

Fall also means spending time near the 'sad light.'

 We've had this out since August, but as the mornings get darker it begins to feel more and more significant..

Fall also means that my days of biking are numbered for this year, and even the rowing machine is starting to become less appealing. It takes longer to work up a warming sweat when the outside temperature is close to freezing and there's precipitation into the bargain.

I love my rebounder, but lately every time I mend it, I get about 25 minutes' use out of it before another spring goes. So it's between mends again and I need something until I can get a better one.

I picked up this jump rope for about a dollar when I was in town...

 ...and amazingly, I can actually swing it in here--I didn't think there would be room! It's been a while since I've used a jump rope for dedicated exercise, so I'll appreciate any recommendations or how-tos!

The other thing that Fall signifies is that the 'indoor' activities around town are getting into full swing. This week, the Homer Theatre is hosting its Eight Annual Documentary Film Festival. Last night, we saw Soul Resonance--a movie produced by some local Homer folks, actually, about the spread of Zimbabwean music in North America and beyond. Marimbas, mbiras and cultural sharing--so much beautiful music. Homer is a huge marimba town (there are four bands, including a kids' band that is just phenomenal) and it so happens that some of the people who 'seeded' marimbas in Homer are the same people that seeded them in Hawaii where I used to live, so there were even some familiar faces in the movie! The marimba bands were present for the movie and performed afterwards, so it was a high-energy and high-local-pride evening.

I'm also hoping to take in Cave of Forgotten Dreams (in 3D, of all things--I've never seen a 3D film before), I Am, and The Interrupters--and maybe even a couple others. It'll be a sweet challenge to find the balance between taking advantage of offerings in town and hunkering down to get my work and writing done.

This advertising board, right by the farmers' market, seems to sum up the spirit of Homer. "Inspired Health" and "Spit Tobacco"--only here...

I'll be back with some food talk tomorrow.

Have you seen any great documentaries lately? Do you watch more movies when it gets darker outside?

Anchorage Trip; Tactile Sense to Stave off Anxiety

Happy Friday, everyone, wherever you are! I'm on my way home from another Anchorage trip--solo, this time. Having been a green-card-holder for two years, I have to reaffirm my presence and personage and be checked again for bona fides. So today, they 'captured' my fingerprints (I love that expression: don't worry, the part that makes prints is still attached to my fingers!) and mugshot. Hopefully it won't be as bad a shot as the one on my current card...

I also got snow tires put on our 'warthog.' Which meant being helped out above and beyond by one of the in-store mechanics at CostCo, and then being patronized mercilessly by the guy in the shop. I did lay myself open for even more of it by cringing at one of the especially ear-splitting hydraulic wrench noises, I guess... Not before time with the snow tires--I'll share pictures tomorrow but compared to this one from last week...

...the snow has now advanced at least half-way down the mountains, closer every day. And so we're heading into yet another beautiful face that this land can present. Hazardous as it can be, the drive between Homer and Anchorage is always so beautiful--I'm grateful that so much of it is so 'wild.' Anchorage itself, of course, is the antithesis, with cheaper and more abundant everything in its much larger variety of stores (although, to be fair, there are plenty of 'wild' areas in Anchorage and you can always see the mountains like the walls of a bowl). It can be bamboozling, all the errands we run when we go to Anchorage--from CostCo to the Natural Pantry to the Habitat for Humanity Store to Office Max to the bookstores to (horrors) occasionally WalMart... I think back to times when I lived in close biking or driving distance to the analogous gamut of places, though, and overall I feel that the lack of those conveniences at home is more than made up for by the natural beauty. It's also yet another way of paying attention to what we choose to buy.

Speaking of choosing what to buy, I made a somewhat wacky purchase today that, wackiness notwithstanding, was probably a very smart buy indeed. I showed these fluffy dusters at the Habitat for Humanity Store on our last trip, mentioned that they made me smile.

I was back there again this morning, looking for door hinges and such, running the gauntlet of defunct refrigerators and rows of bathtubs laying there like coffins, miscellaneous parts and pieces in ziploc bags stuffed in milk crates. Stores are anxious places for me anyway, even stores with a logical layout where I know or can infer where everything is. Stores with an element of chaos are difficult for me above and beyond that. The predictable run to the bathroom didn't stop the rising panic; I was starting to be incoherent...And then I found myself over with the fluffy dusters, holding the fluffy in my hands, just feeling the softness, the givingness.

I breathed. I felt.
I became able to continue looking for hinges, even if I did drop several and get my finger pinched in one to the point that I almost couldn't free myself!

So, for the princely sum of $2, I walked out the store with two different possibilities of hinge-set and one deep green fluffy duster-head (I didn't need the stick part).Throughout the day, driving around, doing errands, not receiving an email I needed to receive, making it to Biometrics and the scary Immigration people (who were actually extremely nice and friendly and not-scary), I thrust my hand into that giving softness and felt calmer.

Like a baby with a security blanket? Well, yes, I guess so. And I think there's some good reason for that behavior. It seems like different senses can be different avenues to get back into the body, to pull back from the brink. It was good news for me today that the tactile sense worked so well. It might even become a good decoy from nail-biting and skin-pulling.

The most impressive thing: it got me to breathe. Seems like as long as you're breathing, there's a chance.
Do you love the feel of soft and fluffy things?

Connectedness--and Rutabaga Chips!

Thank you for all the great comments on my last post: it seems like a subject really worth thinking about. In that post, I mentioned that I got to sit on the rowing machine in pouring rain while seeing blue sky and sunshine out mid-ocean--well, yesterday, I got hailed on out riding my bike, and could look south and see blue sky once again. It's almost as though something cosmic wants to pound the metaphor home...

And why should it be such an important message that the sun is shining somewhere if it keeps dumping rain on my head?

Because we are not all separate from one another. 

When I can remember this, 'marketing myself' or 'considering my audience' is simply remembering that I am not just speaking for myself: I am giving voice to experiences and feelings that may awaken recognition with, speak for, other people. Well-crafted writing, on blogs and elsewhere, has the ability to do this, to give the reader the sense that she could be saying/feeling this also, that the voice is his voice blown a little differently.

Our little poetry group in town met to critique each other's poems yesterday. This is such a lifeline, with the MFA taking place at a distance, with the communications glitches that can sometimes entail: gathering with other poets whom I enormously admire, feeling the grace of their presence, is one of the clearest places that I can experience this awareness that we are not separate. We talked about books with similar-sounding titles coming out around the same time through no plan of either author; we fussed over one another's drafts and sometimes drew new connections just waiting to catch the right eye.

I think of the voice of the chorus in Greek drama, the alternation between "I" and "we," speaking as an individual, speaking as a group, speaking for the whole citizen body. When I can remember that I, too, am connected in this way, am such a speaker, my life feels both more valuable and less important. More worthy of preserving.

One more piece of connectedness: here are rutabaga chips heading into the dehydrator,

following Mindy's suggestion in a comment on my post featuring the monster rutabaga. Thanks, Mindy! They are simply julienned, massaged with a little coconut oil and vinegar, salted and peppered.

Some beets julienned and drying likewise.

 Next time, I'll show what else was in the dehydrator!

What helps you to feel awareness of connectedness to other people?

"Here Comes Trouble"--Knowing Your Audience

"Bad Girls of Alaska--Here Comes Trouble!" So says the T-shirt I received today from one of my new friends in the MFA program. So, watch out!

Yes, well--actually, is that really me? Perhaps the fact that this isn't necessarily the primary image I project is what makes it so ticklishly funny.

Image, brand, projecting and tailoring to one's audience: this isn't something I've talked about much either, or placed a very high premium on. Shied away from is probably more like it... But I do want to talk about it some today--yes, it's going to be a philosophical post, coupled with some more gorgeous views of the fall weather and harvest here.

I've had this on my mind since I read a post by one of the most successful bloggers on whom I keep an eye, in which she observed (to paraphrase) that 'marketing' is involved in every aspect of life--what you say, how you say it, to whom you say it... A pretty striking claim--and difficult to argue with,

There are two sides to this: 'marketing yourself,' so that you can succeed, and 'knowing your audience,' who, in part, help you achieve this success, so that you know what they want and can give it to them.

It's truly shocking how many writers, whose success depends on an audience (whether narrowly defined as agents, editors and others in the publishing business or more broadly as the book-reading public) don't pay attention to this at all. We hope that we can pull people out of their comfort zone and into the worlds that we create ourselves, or profess not to care for the common denominator of an audience's opinion, or we efface ourselves, feel unworthy and undeserving, barely submit our works for publication, have low expectations of our blogger statistics... A less-talented writer who knows how to self-promote and tailors their work to a specific audience is going to go farther than a more-talented writer who never shows their work to the right people in the right way.

Averie's post really got my wheels turning in terms of acknowledging that even an introverted literary type--perhaps especially an introverted literary type--ought to be thinking about how she's presenting herself and what kind of an audience she's playing to. My first thought when I think of 'audience' is that I have so treasured the interactions that I've gotten to participate in as a result of writing this blog, and would love to continue to grow and nurture them, and to broaden them.

Here's another thing too: I am not a typical target audience for Averie's blog! Our lifestyles almost couldn't be more different, as are our attitudes toward diet (hers would be much easier to live with than mine ;) ) And yet, although I don't read religiously, I do keep an eye on her blog, mostly because I so admire her professionalism, her clear-minded, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is attitude and, yes, her success! It's always been very clear to me that she knows exactly who she's talking to and what they want to see and hear, while managing to stay very authentic within her own integrity. She is so compelling, she makes you care about what she's talking about, even if it's a hairstyling technique you've never heard of and know nothing about!

I've always admired that, felt that I was admiring it from a distance as something out of my reach. This post came at a great time to suggest to me that it may be something I can do myself! It also alerts me that 'marketing myself' and being aware of my audience does not mean that I will completely turn away everyone who doesn't fit into whatever narrow definition I come up with. I could end up attracting a reader as diverse from me as I am from Averie.

It's a good time to be thinking about this because I've been acknowledging that how I choose to talk about things--on here and in general--will impact how I go on to deal with them in my life. Marketing again? Marketing to myself too! What best self am I building, what am I modeling for myself and others? For example, if I talk about my personal health struggles, framing the conversation in terms of what I'm doing to make things better, what practices I can incorporate to bring mindfulness to the process, what compassion it has taught me: that is something that I can take much more pride in (as a 'marketer' or otherwise) than if I just deliver a narrative of tribulations.

Since my blog's name refers to underlying balance, non-obvious underpinnings, it's going to be no surprise that 'balance' is a recurrent issue in my life. And the truth is, everyone, or almost everyone, struggles at times. Another truth is that one of the surest ways out of personal struggle is to do something that benefits another person or people. I believe, and hope, that writing is my primary mode by which I can do something beneficial for others. So, whether I'm talking about food, literature, health, homesteading and alternative lifestyles, Alaskana or whatever else (all those disparate elements that might make this blog hard to 'market,') I set the intention that I am here to do some good. I acknowledge that 'my audience' are real people. I am here because you are here.

Today was one of those swing-season days of sunspots and intense rain-squalls. As luck would have it, my workout on the rowing machine coincided with one of the latter.

Thirty minutes, and I was soaked! But I got to look at blue sky in the middle of the inlet, with sun shining on an untroubled ocean.

Harvest notes: after three years of beets galore, this year has been mostly a fail for beets (and I still don't quite understand why). But I'm finally seeing a few poking through that have gotten to a decent size and haven't yet bolted--nothing like we had last year, though.

We've done pretty well on the spuds, though! I've just been pulling a few from the ground whenever I need them, but Phil pulled out this bucketful yesterday--and we have at least as much again still in the ground.

Do you think about how you're 'marketing yourself' when you interact with other people?
Any suggestions for how I might do a better job?

Harvest and Hope; Applesauce Energy Bars

Happy Weekend, post equinox! We can almost see the sunset from our south-facing windows now, which means the shorter days are definitely on their way. 

Today has been a day of perseverance. For the first time in too many weeks, I made the important first step of writing a 'to do' list--and managed to check off every item, some slow progress on the kitchen conversion and on garden chores. 

Despite feeling like I'm moving painfully slowly, like my brain is only partially co-operating, I also managed to get a draft down of a poem that's been nagging at me for some time. There are many poem-seeds in that category, and of course I want to get them all down in a single day, but I'm glad for the grace of harvesting even a single one.

Speaking of garden and harvest, we received a package from Phil's mom on the farm in Oregon--it's the first time in years that we have no plans to be down there during the gorgeous harvest season (see this post for our filbert-processing down there).

 Delicious corn, apples, pears and even four delectable plums, only one of which was irredeemably squished. I definitely felt some nostalgia and even a little regret not to be in a place that produces such sweetness. So much gratitude and pleasure at the connection...

But then, I bet one couldn't raise monstrous rutabagas down there like we have!

 I raised so much rutabaga this year, my first time trying them: they grow pretty easily and seem less susceptible to root maggots than turnips or radishes are, although we did lose a few plants. We've been enjoying them steamed, sometimes roasted. I've yet to try anything featuring them raw: they are intensely brassica-flavored and I suspect better digested with some of the cellulose softened up.

The devil's club (Alaskan ginseng but absolutely decked out with thorns that do not come out of your skin) is so stunning at this time of year. Some year, I'll have to pluck up courage to harvest some of the root bark and tincture it. It's also the time when the dandelions have a brief resurgence--offering their colors for our eyes to soak up before everything goes monochrome--time to dig some roots for liver-supporting tea.

Well, in addition to these signs of harvest and of hope, even if gentle and diffident, I have a recipe to share. It's a good part of self-care and a countermanding of the 'too busy to fix food' claim to make sure of a supply of well-balanced energy bars for mid-afternoon-type times.

These are kind of a riff on the banana energy bars of a couple weeks ago (which were themselves riffed off of the banana bread before that) and feature some of the amaranth-millet porridge that I also mentioned in the banana energy bars post.
A picture to show the kind of texture of the porridge (soaked a few hours, crockpotted overnight on low with lots of water): it's really quite watery.

 Applesauce Energy Bars (low glycemic, no allergen, vegan)

1 1/2 cups 'powdery substances' (I used maca, lucuma, coconut flour, pea protein powder and stevia baking blend)
cinnamon, ginger, cardamom to taste (I used lots!)
1 cup amaranth-millet porridge, cool

1 cup unsweetened applesauce
2 tablespoons yacon syrup
1/4 cup flax seed
1/4 cup melted coconut oil

1/2 cup raisins and/or goji berries

Mix together the 'powdery substances' of your choice. Stir in the porridge.
In a separate bowl (or a measuring jug), mix together the applesauce, yacon syrup, melted coconut oil and flax seeds.
Combine wet and dry, add the dried fruit.

Form into a big square on a teflex sheet, score into bars and dehydrate at 145 the first hour, then turn down to 115.
After about 3-4 hours, you should be able to flip, remove the teflex sheet and separate them into individual bars, which allows them to dehydrate faster.

You could bake these in the oven too--bake at 325 in a parchment paper-lined pan: I would flip these halfway through too, and suspect it would take at least an hour.

The flax complements the porridge pseudograins so well texturally. Generally, this bar is so satisfying--sweet but not too sweet, with an interesting texture, pleasantly spicy. For me, it was also a move in the direction of acknowledging the importance of protein and fat, re-embracing flax seeds and coconut oil.

I hope that you'll try it--the recipe is also forgiving and 'tweakable.'
In other news, Joanna Steven is giving away a copy of The Body Ecology Diet--check out her blog for full details and to enter, and to read her wonderful insights into parenting and life in general.

Do you enjoy creating (and eating) recipes that are associative/'riffed' from other recipes you've made?

Fall Colors and Red Salmon (Mostly Pictures)

I promised some gorgeous pictures from our trip to Anchorage: it's the color-harvesting time, stunning last hurrahs. So interesting too how the season is farther advanced closer to Anchorage, with lots of little climate pockets. The berries on our mountain ash trees here are just barely turning red. They're fully red on this one in town, with wonderful tricolor foliage too.

 'Termination dust' again, and yellowing birches lower down.

 It rained inches in those days but you can see a pocket of sunlight in those mountains.

 The birches and aspens are turning, making carpets, patchworking their yellows with the dark green of the spruces...

 ...like so, crowding to the highway and up the mountains as far as they can reach.

 Sometimes it could look quite gloomy.

 Other times, it was just color, threaded with cloud.

 All that red high up in the mountains, and you can see the streams just torrenting down--there was so much water everywhere!

 Similar basic colors on these dusters at the Habitat for Humanity store in Anchorage. They made me smile and I enjoyed their fluffiness.

 Phil inherited some large (30.06) bullets. I thought those red tips on them made them look like some sort of make-up...

 ...and he obligingly showed one off as such!

 Probably the most astonishing sight was yielded in one of the various places we stopped, looking for those lingonberries. This is Hidden Lake, and those are red salmon in their full spawning regalia.

 They were so close to the boat-launch!

 So many of them, and so big--every once in a while, the whole surface of the lake would whip and writhe with them.

 I felt humbled by the opportunity to see them, doing their own exuberant thing with nobody to interfere.

Happy Equinox!